


The Virginian Method

by chelsey



Category: 1776 (1972)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:52:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1634963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelsey/pseuds/chelsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adams, Jefferson, and Franklin celebrate the signing of the declaration at a tavern.  Jefferson, with Franklin's help, celebrates a bit too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Virginian Method

**Author's Note:**

> *DO NOT drink Thomas Jefferson's beer. I did. It's disgusting. I like beer and I think it's disgusting. No, I know it's disgusting.  
> *The book Franklin reads from is real. I have a copy.  
> *"It makes me sad that he's buried with his wife instead of fourteen syphilitic French prostitutes."
> 
> Written for amazingly_me

 

 

"To Tom!" Franklin pronounced, raising his mug high, a beatific grin spread wide across his face. His expression alone said all that needed to be said about the day's events.

"Ah! Ah!" Adams protested. "To Independency, Franklin! Jefferson's document is merely the tool by which we will see the deed accomplished."

Jefferson inclined his head in agreement, but offered a single amendment. "Begun."

"Too true," Adams said. "The fight has only just begun. We may have defeated the opponents of independence in the congress, but there remains a war to be fought - a war hopefully to be won, for our sakes and for that of our children and for this new, great nation. But before it can be won it must be fought, and the price will be higher than I dare imagine. Only yesterday I received word from my Abigail of the son of our neighbor. The boy, spurred into action by the continual assaults on Boston, ran off to join the Continental Army. A fine, patriotic lad he was, but, alas-"

"Oh, for pity's sake, John!" Franklin, who had gone from restless to agitated over the course of Adam's soliloquy, could contain himself no longer. "This is a celebration. Today we have had a victory. However small a victory it may be in the grand scheme, it is a victory nonetheless. We shall act accordingly!"

Jefferson had remained silent the whole evening - though how could one remain otherwise when Adams and Franklin were speaking? Now he raised a single hand to silence them both, and lifted his own flagon high.

"Gentlemen, today we have struck a blow against the enemy. There will be more to strike before this fight is over, and we shall receive many blows of our own. In the course of every struggle, the- When fighting we must- Tomorrow is a bright day and we must welcome it while still shielding ourselves against the rays of enemaic aggression and loss and unfortuitous disasterly damage."

Adams stared at Jefferson disbelievingly. "Good God, man," he said dryly. "What on Earth is that even supposed to mean? I thought you were the poet among us, but-" Franklin again interrupted Adams, this time with a tittering laugh.

"He's drunk, John, don't you see? Our Tom is drunk." Franklin showed his utter delight at this development by bouncing in his seat in a very childlike manner.

"Nonsense," Adams said.

"Nonsense," Jefferson said. He spoke the word with perhaps the slightest hint of a slur, and though he pointed a disapproving finger at Franklin, the finger seemed intent on pointing at the wall three feet to the left.

"Good God, he's drunk."

"Exactly, John! And a wonderful thing it is too. A young man should be drunk as often as possible." Franklin took a long, slow drink from his own mug of ale. "And an old man should be drunk even when not possible."

"I'm not drunk," Jefferson said, making an effort to sit erect in his chair. "I will allow that I've had maybe a drop or two more than usual, but Virginians do not get drunk."

"Hmm, indeed." Franklin frowned and appeared to ponder the situation quite seriously. "Maybe drunk isn't the word. As it so happens, I've written a little book of euphemisms for drunkenness. Perhaps we can find one that suits you, Tom?" Without waiting for a reply - and indeed the only reply was a cold stare - Franklin pulled a small booklet out of his pocket. "Perhaps you have been with Sir John Goa? Or is it that you are nimtopsical? Are you seeing two moons?"

This time, Adams interrupted. "I will have to be drunk if I am to sit here and listen to any more of this. Franklin, we didn't come here to listen to you read your own writings all night."

"Very true," Franklin said. He slipped the pamphlet back in his vest pocket and patted it lovingly. "Always good to have around in a pinch. Now then, Tom, if you are not entirely drunk yet, perhaps you should continue on your way there. It is a lovely destination this time of year."

"Any time of year for you," Jefferson said. A lazy smile played across his face as he picked up his glass again. "Very well, though. I leave myself in your experienced hands."

"Oh, very good, Tom, very good." Franklin clapped his hands together happily as Jefferson drained the contents of his glass. His face colored at the effort, reaching a shade quite close to that of his hair. When he had finished he nodded.

"Quite fine, but not comparable to my Monticello brew."

"You brew your own beer, Tom?"

"Twice a year, from my own recipe. By all accounts it is a fine drink."

"Oh," Franklin replied, a frown crossing his face. He leaned towards Adams. "If he brews enough beer in two sessions to last the entire year, it might explain his rapid degeneration this evening."

"Sir," spoke Jefferson, who had easily heard every word, "are you suggesting I cannot hold my ale?"

"He needn't suggest it, Jefferson," Adams replied. "You have displayed it for all to see." Jefferson stared at Adams in stony silence, his face grim and manner menacing. Then, unexpectedly, a grin broke across his face and he began laughing, a slow chuckle that quickly morphed into a full-out, table-shaking laugh.

"Disgusting," Adams pronounced.

"I think it's sweet," Franklin said. He watched Jefferson with a tender fondness that recalled days gone by. "In any case he deserves a bit of fun, wouldn't you say, John? He's written a Declaration of Independence, he's gotten the congress to declare war on Great Britain, and his wife has gone back to Virginia." At the mention of Martha Jefferson both Adams and Franklin blushed, fondly recalling her sweet voice and ample... dancing ability.

"I miss my wife," Jefferson said. The laughter was gone and now a deep sadness lined his face. He put his empty glass down and leaned forward, propping his head up and sighing.

"Oh, no, this won't do!" Franklin prodded Adams. "John, we can't let him be sad."

"What do you suppose I should do?" Adams asked. "I miss my wife as well, but I don't wallow in inebriation because of it."

"We can't all be perfect like you, John. No, we must cheer him up."

"And how do you suggest we do that?"

Franklin thought for a moment before snapping his fingers. His entire face lit up in a smiling glow. "Why I know just the thing! It always cheers me up." With a whistle and a gesture he called the barmaid over and whispered into her ear. Only a few moments later a young woman was at their table, somehow being both demure and scandalously clad. "Celeste," Franklin said to the girl. "This is Tom. He's lonely and sad and is in desperate need of a friend this evening."

Celeste smiled prettily and went to Jefferson's side.

"Franklin!" Adams looked aghast. Adams looked horrified. Adams looked enraged. "Do you mean... Is she... You can't possibly..." He grabbed Franklin's shoulder and pulled him close to speak in a lowered tone. "Is that a woman of the night?"

"It is night, John." Franklin seemed utterly nonplussed. "Don't be so shocked. Tom appears to be enjoying her."

Adams looked back at the Virginian, who indeed seemed to be enjoying her. "This is indecent." He clapped a hand over his eyes and felt around for the edge of the table, intending to make a hasty exit. "I expect this of you, Franklin, but the man is married."

"So am I," Franklin said. "My wife has never much minded. Shall I call one of Celeste's friends for you, or will you be going home to read the Bible and write your wife?"

"Disgusting," Adams said. He uncovered his eyes to glare at Franklin, both for the suggestion that he might like to be engaged in a manner similar to Jefferson and for the affront on his wife. Without meaning to he instead found himself staring at Jefferson, watching what he was doing and, more importantly, how he was going about doing it.. He sighed and shook his head, banging the ground with his walking stick.

"Oh, put your back into it, man! Dear God, are Virginians good for nothing?" Having imparted his own wisdom, he stood and marched out, not bothering to look back on either Jefferson or Franklin. Abigail, certainly, would be amused by this newly discovered, inferior "Virginian Method." 

 


End file.
